


ten-nine-eight, full enough to break

by kingsofneon



Series: horny reading list [17]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Consentacles, Eggpreg, Face-Fucking, Multi, Other, Oviposition, Spitroasting, Stuffing, belly bulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsofneon/pseuds/kingsofneon
Summary: Sabo finds a strange plant on a stranger island. The strange plant is more than eager to have company.
Relationships: Sabo (One Piece)/Other(s)
Series: horny reading list [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641943
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	ten-nine-eight, full enough to break

**Author's Note:**

> minor note: canon divergence where sabo ends up not getting whammied by celestials and instead goes around doing that travel book he wanted to.
> 
> ..man I should make this a series. sabo + dumb kinks he tries bc he thinks itd be good writing shit for his book. lmaooo
> 
> ANYWAY got too long to post on tumblr bc of their bs 100-line rule, shotsies to the anons who wanted tentacles + stuffing this one's for you (four and a half years later).

Sabo’s by himself when he runs into the plant. The island is lush with greenery, but it's made his current navigator come down with horrendous hayfever, and Sabo knows enough about their hurricane sneezes to leave them alone until it calms down. 

Sabo’s by himself, and then suddenly, he isn’t. As he kneels to peer at the leaves surrounding him (noting how they, oddly, all seem interconnected), something shoves at his back. He stumbles over, landing on his ass, and then just as quickly gets up again, head whipping around for his assailant. 

In front of him is a hovering set of thin, vine-line tendrils. “The fuck?” he asks, taking a careful step back, and they follow after him, splitting up. Some go higher, and some go lower, and then one gets close, swaying in front of his hands. 

“Hey, watch it-” Sabo says, his hands raised carefully, and the thin tendril prods his open palm before snaking around his fingertips deftly. It pulses, easy and slow, and Sabo wriggling his fingertips only makes the small tentacle tighten and slide down the back of his hand. It's like its alive, like a creature wanting to explore him, and so he lets it explore his fingertip and his palm, but then it starts to creep up his arm. “What are you doing?” he says warningly, and it stops. Almost sadly it unwinds itself, trying to press into his palm like it's asking to be pet, tickling his scarred skin, and he cocks his eyebrow at it. 

“What’d you want?” he asks it, fully prepared to not receive an answer, but the tentacle pulses in a bright yellow and snakes forwards, winding around his waist so fast he yelps. It nuzzles against him, weird and squishy, and Sabo frowns, torn between pushing it away and letting his fingers stroke over it. He goes with the latter, if only because as he pets the tendril it warms against his skin, sending tingles along his shoulders. 

“…Me?” he says, and the tentacle curls even tighter, obviously pleased with him, if one can judge a tentacle’s feelings by the steady warmth it suddenly begins to emit.

“Why?” he asks, and the tentacle tugs him forwards gently. He goes, if only for curiosity (and to avoid tripping over), and is led through thick foliage that he’s just now figured out is more of the plant. It sways towards him, captivated, and he can’t help but feel amusement at how every vine follows after his steps like a gaggle of puppies. Or lost ducklings. 

He’s on a petal before he realises it, the slight bounce and sway to the ground making him look down, and the tentacle takes more of Sabo’s weight as he makes his way down into a shallow dip, where, hidden from the outside world is-

He stares, mouth parting, and then finds that all he can say is- 

“Oh.”

Those are definitely eggs. 

The tentacle slides across his chest, undulating in a way that reminds Sabo a bit of a snake. It’s...oddly comforting, though. The grip is supportive rather than suffocating, and the tentacle only uses it to keep Sabo away from the flower’s middle as it reaches out to grab one of the small globes in the nest. The egg pulses faintly purple at the soft stroke of the tentacle, and when presented to Sabo he can see it roiling with blue and the faint tingles of pink. It’s captivating, like a gemstone, and his eyes flick to the tentacle. He’s like 90% sure of what the thing wants, now, but-

The globe presses softly against his lips, patient and steady, and Sabo’s tongue flicks out instinctively, touching both the tentacle and the egg. It lights up at the warmth, and the tentacle around him moves in a pattern like a shivering wave, pressing hard against the jut of his hips and his slowly-interested cock. _Well_. Sabo thinks to himself, _this is probably one of the weirder things you’ve ever done._

 _But at least it’ll be a new experience for the book,_ he adds to himself, almost laughing, and opens his mouth. The tentacle holding him writhes in delight, tipping the globe into his mouth, and Sabo chokes a bit around it before he manages to swallow. It feels heavy going down, jaw having stretched a bit too wide to fit it, but the tentacle strokes his throat almost like it’s praising him and he can’t help but shiver. 

From behind him he hears the sound of more tendrils emerge from the forest, and in seconds they’ve twined around his ankles and arms, finding his sleeve openings and creeping down the back of his collar. The sensation of them running down his spine makes him shiver even more, trying not to laugh, and the tentacle holding him lights up in pleased yellow again. 

It bops him on the nose, and Sabo reels back slightly, surprised by the human notion of the plant. He can feel the tentacles now holding him wriggle like they’re laughing too. 

“Guess we’re doing this, huh?” he asks, and moves his hands to take care of his coat; but while he was distracted, the other tentacles have wound around his arms, and easily hold him back. He struggles, and they loosen, but when they figure out it’s just to get his clothes off they twine tight around him again, flashing a calming blue till Sabo relaxes into their hold. 

“So you’re taking care of the clothes then,” he says, staring at the yellow tendril in front of his face, and it moves to go circle protectively around the nest of eggs. “You better not rip anything! That shit's important,” he threatens, but soon finds himself distracted by the yellow’s replacement.

This one is even smaller than yellow's finger-width size, and a green colour that reminds Sabo of fresh grass. It smells like mint and moves fast, accompanied by an army of tendrils much the same size. They pick at his clothes, figuring them out through sheer numbers and pulling them off his head, and he finds himself lifted off his feet and maneuvered as they like him, twisted over and around and bending him until his arms are held above his head and his legs are spread wide. He’s still supported, a thick tentacle resting just below his ass that he leans against, but the most he can do is shift towards one direction or another. Fuck, this is exposing. His heart is beating fast with excitement, and he swallows hard as they continue their exploration.

Tiny teasing touches that make him hold back the desire to whine, and they pick him apart easy and slow, finding the spot behind his neck that makes tingles shoot through his body and his knees weak, the spot on the inside of his thigh that makes his muscles jerk and clench, and when they find his cock Sabo knows he’s done for. 

They’re too _gentle,_ too explorative, too keen on finding what makes him arch forwards and whine, and they’re so feather-light that Sabo can’t help but squirm, trying to get _anything_ to touch him properly. One flicks over the tip of his cock, and he clenches his eyes shut, a pathetic whimper falling from his lips. They seem to understand his desires, pulling away, but the lack of sensation is even worse than the flickering touches; his skin still tingles from where they touched him, and the emptiness, the coldness, makes it worse. 

Before he can question if they’re just going to string him up and let the cold wind freeze him from the inside out, another tendril appears in front of him. It gleams purple, and is much larger than both the yellow and the green one, slightly flat-tipped. Something drips from it, gleaming in the light filtered from the trees above, and Sabo arches his eyebrow at it. 

“Are _you_ finally going to fuck me?” he challenges it, though he knows it likely won’t get the colloquialism, but it seems to challenge him right back, kinking and then teasing the skin beneath his eye. It presses against his cheekbone, leaving the sticky mess coating his face, and he can’t help but close one eye, wondering what it’s for. It pulls away, then seems to laugh at the face he makes when he tries to rub his face on his bare shoulder but can’t. 

The goo trails slowly down his face, hitting his lip, and Sabo swallows, thinking to himself as he does, _of course it tastes like grapes._ It leaves him heady like wine, and so of course his first instinct is to try and taste more of it, chasing the bare tingles that swim on his tongue. Before he’s realised it, he’s started trying to arch his tongue from the mouth in a desperate effort to get more of the substance, and his chest is heaving as warmth grows through his stomach. The tentacle has pressed itself to his lips, and he’s more than eager to let it in, swallowing around it and feeling heat start to creep up his spine. 

The taste of grapes fades to longing heat, and his mouth goes numb before it begins to flare, sparks on his lips and throat making him mouth even more desperately at the tentacle choking him, trying to swallow more of the gel slowly sliding down his throat. He wants to beg, say _please,_ urge the tiny trickle to hurry the fuck up as it eases warmth from the tip of him to his now very hard cock, but instead it just pulses on his tongue with every swallow. Shit, this thing is obviously some sort of aphrodisiac - but he doesn’t care. His emotions are swinging, and if he doesn’t get more right now, he thinks he might actually burst into tears. 

He groans, and the vibration of his mouth makes the tentacles tighten around him, immobilising him even more effectively than they already had. The purple tentacle, in turn, writhes between his teeth, and he chokes on it, feeling an even larger pulse of the sweetness fill his mouth and making him burn inside, his skin prickling with sensitivity. 

It swells, suddenly, a gush of it pouring into him, and he chokes even more, unable to swallow and feeling it dribble out the side of his mouth, tracing paths down his throat that feel like fingertips, landing on his flushed chest in drips of cool relief, making him squirm. He gags on it as he tries to beg, swallowing hard like he’s deepthroating someone’s cock, like this will make it move properly and give him the relief he needs, but the pressure in him builds and his belly begins to ache, pushed to the point of fullness. 

Tears drip down the corner of his eyes, and then it pulls out of his mouth and he whines a desperate _please_. A trail of his saliva and the aphrodisiac still clings to the tip of the tentacle and his bottom lip, and tries to move forwards to follow it but finds himself caught. He squirms in frustration, irritation bubbling within him when he can’t get what he wants, but the tentacles tighten even further in warning, holding him far too easily. “I want-“ he demands, and can’t even finish, head tilted back as he gasps. His body is burning, soaring, blood heady and hot, and he just _wants_. 

A tentacle curves around his upper thigh, far too slow for the thickness that it brings, and he writhes against it, skin oversensitised and prickling. 

Slick and wide, it presses in so slowly he’s sure he’ll die of frustration before ever finishing this encounter; it stretches him open with far more ease and patience than any other partner he’s had before, but it’s also definitely thicker than any partner before and he can’t help but arch as the tip drags across his prostate. 

He whines, his cock pulsing between his legs, and the muscles in his thighs twitch as he tries to push them together. The tentacles keep his legs spread, though, and the one up his ass continues just as slowly as it did before, undulating as it presses into him and making him writhe. “ _Please_ -!” he whines again, as it swells within him, finally fucking _stopping_ , but the breadth of it still makes it hard for him to breathe. 

He just wants it to move, wants it to fuck him properly, but instead it just pulses and he almost howls as it swells again, a very obvious ridge locking it inside him. A rolling wave ripples through it, and Sabo’s stomach swells even further, far beyond what he ever thought it could go, skin stretched tight as more of the slime fills him. A second passes, and he tries to catch his breath, heart pounding, but the heat is impossible to ignore and his cock almost _hurts_ , now, precum dribbling over his hot skin in a way that makes his toes curl.

His yellow tentacle returns, bearing more of the eggs, and Sabo groans at the thought of them being stuffed inside him, unsure on if they’re even going to fit, or if he could even swallow around them. However, it rolls them along the tentacle that snakes around his leg, and Sabo watches as they sink carefully into the vine. His eyes go wide in realisation as he catches them moving, and his cheeks flush. “Ah- wait-!” he tries to say, but then it presses against his ass, rubbing against his prostate, and all Sabo’s able to say is a mess of unintelligible gurgles. 

The plant, however, has seemed to hear his request, and stops with another egg almost half inside him, resting heavy and stretching him in a way that almost makes Sabo sob. “Please-” he whimpers, hands clenching around the tentacles that bind his hands, and his breath hitches, tears creeping down his cheeks, “ugh- keep- _please_!” 

His yellow tentacle reaches up to his face, soothingly brushing tears off Sabo’s face, and Sabo outright whines as the next egg pushes into him, his stomach shifting and gurgling to accommodate it. He feels so good, so full, so hazy with pleasure that it’s half a surprise he isn’t floating, and his head lolls back on his neck as yellow pets his hair and curls around his neck. The tentacles are so _nice;_ they’re so kind to him, running soothing pressure over his aching, swollen stomach and his sweaty skin, and Sabo moans as more eggs are stuffed inside him. 

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles as the plant seems to slow, almost hesitant about leaving the eggs within his stomach, “I can- _please_.” The yellow tentacle threads through his hair, tracing his cheekbone again, and Sabo leans into it, mouth slack with pleasure. “Just- oh fuck, just- let me come-”

The tentacles tip him forward and gravity drags at his swelling belly, making him squirm and cry as things shift inside him, the new angle leaving the thick purple tentacle pressed between his legs and against his cock. It’s so _cold_ he almost cries, hips moving in jagged, aborted thrusts to try and get friction, and then the eggs once again begin to slide through the tentacle, the uneven bumps running across his cock like waves, and he chokes again at the dual sensation of something entering him from behind at something running over his cock. 

Yellow pets his cheek until Sabo opens his eyes again, and then gently pushes his jaw until Sabo can see that the nest of eggs is now almost empty, the last few cradled in a careful basket. 

“Please,” he whispers, sight hazy with desperate tears, but the vines don’t drop them into the thick purple tentacle stuffed into him. Instead, that one swells further, another gush of liquid filling him up as it starts to pull out, and Sabo wants to cry. 

Finds himself already crying, salt on his tongue as yellow wriggles between his lips and makes him open his mouth, a thin blue tentacle slipping past his lips again, going so far down the back of his tongue that he chokes and can’t breathe. But oh god, it isn’t nearly as exquisitely, perfectly painful as when another, smaller egg comes through it, forcing his jaw to click. His jaw aches, drool creeping out as he tries vainly to swallow, but only the egg goes down. It hits his stomach hard, the solution in him sloshing around, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, moaning deep in his throat. 

He knows it will end. It has to end. The heat thrumming through him, his cock so hard it aches, and yellow had shown that there were only ten left.

Another slips past his lips, and he thinks, breathlessly, chest heaving uselessly,  _ eight. _

The purple tentacle swells again, another thick, heavy gush of slime filling him, and he rocks back against it as it tauntingly fills him. 

_ Seven.  _

His head is pounding. His body’s burning. His cock is dripping, dripping, dripping, and Sabo can’t speak but he still tries to make himself howl  _ please! _

_ Six.  _

His stomach hurts. The vines free his hands, sliding to support him via his torso instead, and Sabo rests his hands on his taut belly, rubbing at the hard lump of eggs resting low in him. For how much is stuffed inside him, how heavy and full he feels, it barely matches how he’d look after having a large lunch. The touch of his own hands against his skin makes him sob again, dizzy with pleasure. 

_ Five _ .

His hands press against the purple tentacle he’s straddling, finally gaining enough leverage to hump the thick vine between his legs, and he could cry at how good it feels, how perfect it is to be stuffed at both ends and finally have enough pressure to enjoy it. Yellow twines under his hips, curving around the base of his cock, and then tightens. 

Sabo gasps. 

_ Four. Three.  _

He howls, whines, whimpers, thrusts himself down desperately, but yellow doesn't relent, only plays with the tip of his cock, and Sabo can’t reach between the tentacle to grasp his cock and peel yellow away. He wants to scream, but he’s so effectively gagged that he can only moan as purple gushes more slick in him again, pulling out further, till only the hard knot is left in him. 

He needs to cum. He’d begged them to let him cum, they  _ have  _ to let him-

_ Two.  _

Purple thrusts inside him so fast that Sabo howls as the last egg slips down his throat and the blue tentacle pulls from his mouth, and then something large is stuffed in him, another tentacle helping position it, and Sabo doesn’t stop the sobs, the pleads that fly from his mouth.  Then, suddenly, yellow is off him, purple is thrusting straight against his prostate, and Sabo is so blessedly full he feels he’d never be able to move again, but he’s still got his hips rocking against the grinding wave of the tentacle he’s straddling. 

More tears flee down his cheeks, and Sabo finally cums. 

A second lost to singing pleasure, two, and though he can barely feel his arms and absolutely can’t feel his knees, he swings back to consciousness as the vines move him to the middle of the flower. The petals are velveteen soft against his bare skin, and the tentacles slide off him with gentle, caring movements, curling around him instead. They keep him warm and comforted, and then several drape over him and his swollen belly like a blanket.

It feels so good that Sabo finds himself drifting off again, languid and pleased. Yellow brushes his hair from his face, and Sabo pries his eyes open to drowsily stare. 

“They come out?” Sabo asks, and yellow seems to nod, then runs the very tip of their tentacle over Sabo’s eyes. Sabo, with heroic strength, manages to open his eyes again. “When?” he slurs, and yellow pauses. It seems to be a question that it doesn’t understand, and Sabo’s lips quirk before he finally gives up fighting his heavy eyelids. 

The last thing he says before he falls asleep is a mumbled, “Guess…better hope he’s got hayfever for at least a week.” 

**Author's Note:**

> r-e-v-i-e-w ty ty
> 
> love seeing ppl leave their fave lines or overall opinions, see u next time


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